Bohemia Village Voice

Unholy Trinity

As Joseph had picked up the letter that day, he knew, and the pit of his stomach had told him, it wasn’t going to be good news.
He’d received many a brown envelope like this one. It wasn’t as if his brother had to use them – just his little ‘Establishment’ joke, and, Joe concluded, Pete’s resentful kickback. Held at Her Majesty’s pleasure, he always considered that brown envelopes went hand-in-hand with austere prison life, so, to him, these emphasised that fact.
Now, Pete had served his time for drug dealing and was on his way home, well, not his home exactly. He rather hoped, Joseph’s home. The only place he knew to head for, once the prison gates had ushered him out to freedom, slamming shut behind him. Joseph’s problem was . . . telling Mary. He’d put it off long enough. Pete had asked him at least three months ago if he and Mary would put him up for a week or two, ‘only until I’ve found accommodation’, he’d coaxed.
Of course, that was another joke Pete had thought so amusing – their names, Joseph and Mary. Why their mother had had a tendency for religious names often made Joe shake his head in puzzlement. Joseph and Peter. Then, of course, he’d had to meet and marry a Mary, hadn’t he? Pete thought that was hilarious. Joseph’s eyes glazed over at the hundreds of idiotic jokes Pete had made over time.
Mary had walked into the lounge, wiping her rubber gloves on a towel, and, seeing the envelope, didn’t have to be told who it was from. She wasn’t very happy when Joseph asked if Pete could stay, but felt that, as Pete was Joseph’s only brother, for her husband’s sake, she couldn’t really refuse.
Years ago, Joseph had ignored Mary’s crush on Pete. He knew his brother was a risk-taker, persistently sailing close to the wind, always in and out of trouble, that slightly perilous air about him appealing to Mary enormously. Joseph knew he hadn’t anything to worry about now, but he still held that memory.
As for Mary, maturity had taken the place of naïve youth. Her own younger brother’s problem with drugs had led her to becoming a counsellor for addicts, giving her a different perspective on irresponsibility. She set down parameters for Pete’s ‘short’ stay with them and hoped the Joseph and Mary jokes would have long been forgotten.
Regrettably, unlike most people, Pete had never matured, his prison term a lesson unlearned. Within a few days Mary soon realised he was dealing again. Joseph had watched as Pete tried to work his well-worn charisma on Mary, but her once adoring eyes were now hard as pebbles when she threw him out, his pleas falling on unresponsive ears, even as the first big snowflake began to fall.
Joseph had to admit though, grinning wryly to himself, that Mary certainly had a subtle sense of humour with her parting words – telling Pete not to bother coming back, since there was no room any more at their inn.

Revolutionary Local

Betty Bladderwell, local resident of Luckwish Road, Diptree, had written several times to the Diptree council complaining of litter and chewing-gum ‘awash’ in its town centre, and peripheral pavements.
We, The Diptree Observer, sent a reporter to speak with Mrs Bladderwell regarding her letters which, she opined, ‘had been totally ignored – it’s disgusting’, she declared, disclosing an incident occurring some weeks ago, whilst walking her dog along the promenade, her shoe suddenly becoming gummed to the pavement, pitching her into the kerb. As she lay there, attempting to gather her senses, she was mortified to be thrown some coins by a passer-by.
‘I wished the ground had opened and swallowed me but, on returning home, regaining my equanimity, my fighting spirit re-emerged. I determined to write to the council enquiring exactly what it was doing to deal with this anti-social problem. Alongside the gum issue, is the ongoing litter’, she told our correspondent. ‘Sitting down one day on a sheltered bench to enjoy the sunshine and sea, on reaching home, I found an ice-cream wrapper stuck fast to the back of my coat. I was livid, asking myself what is being done about the debris on our streets? Nothing – that’s what! I simply had to take action’.
When The Diptree Observer invited Conservative Mayoress Felicity Blunt to comment, she defended the Council asserting it was doing everything possible to solve this ongoing problem. ‘We are aware of residents’ feelings’, she contended. ‘But it is a matter of funding. Tied to a budget limits what we can do within the town and other areas. We were extremely sorry to hear Mrs Bladderwell was mistaken for a tramp when catapulted into the gutter and will do everything in our power to prevent incidents such as this in future. We’re immensely sympathetic to Mrs Bladderwell’s plight in regard to the chocolate ice-cream wrapper appending itself to her coat. Should she care to approach our finance department, it will be happy to reimburse her for the cleaning of her garment.’
Approached for comment from opposing Labour candidate, Barry Wuss, he declared local Conservative policies were little short of anarchy. ‘Typically, Mayoress Blunt and her council are totally out of touch with the townspeople of Diptree’, he said. ‘I’m afraid to say my observations, over a long period of time, have been they are more concerned with financing their junkets from taxpayers’ money than caring for its indigenous population and amenities. Hardly anyone doesn’t recall ten council members travelling to Tasmania to study migrating Red Shouldered parrots. It is hardly for me to clarify that a 5-star hotel pertaining to this sort of spurious expedition was an excess of the council’s remit. After all, when would Red Shouldered parrots migrate from Tasmania to Diptree’?
Pressed for a further statement Mayoress Blunt declined to answer.
Mrs Bladderwell, however, tells The Diptree Observer she is taking her case to the European Court of Human Rights.
‘I cannot stand by and let Diptree become immersed in litter and gum. The local community should be made aware of what is going on, voting in their next local election for a council that will have residents’ wishes at the heart of their policies. It’s all very well for Mayoress Blunt to say her finance department will pay for the cleaning of my coat, but it’s the thin end of a very wide wedge. And, anyway, I might add, her ill-concealed indifference is patent. It was a Neopolitan wrapper, not chocolate’.
Mayoress Blunt was unavailable for comment last night.